Turning White and Senses Dire
by caithream
Summary: When it comes down to it, Dean's a giver.


AN: Just as a heads up, this is heavy on the porn and light on the plot, so if that isn't your thing, turn back now!

* * *

She's not herself when she decides to, driven instead by the hollow curling burn that aches within her and shoves all her rationality to the back seat. She's never done this before, but it's been so long and sometimes on these warm, sticky nights she thinks she could die, her body curled within itself as her breath heaves. She knows what she wants, as long as it had taken her to realize.

Cherry lip gloss doesn't exactly mesh well with beer, but she hardly notices as she pretends to casually glance around, the haze in the bar making everything soft-focus, warmer, and more tantalizing.

She's on her third beer when he catches her eye.

The ache becomes a throb as he settles next to her. They make small talk and she can barely remember what he's said two sentences ago and doesn't care. Finally, he leans in close, his breath warm and tickling her ear.

"You wanna get out of here?" he asks, low and inviting, making her tingle all the way down to her toes.

She doesn't trust herself to speak, just nods as she breathes in his scent, leather and woodsy with the barest hints of cologne.

His hand rests lightly on the small of her back as she leads the way to her place.

------

He's got both of their shirts off before they can even make their way to her bedroom, his hands lightly gripping her hips as he kisses all the way down her neck, tonguing and sucking the hollow above her collar bone. Her hands are around his back, kneading the pleasantly firm muscles she finds there, pulling him closer and feeling the swell in his jeans against her thigh. She shifts, just barely, but he groans into her skin and reaches to unclasp her bra, reciprocating in kind as he puts his mouth around her nipple. Her chest tries to heave under his undulating tongue, hardly able to stand the warm wetness as she arches towards him.

"Bed," she tries to gasp out, and moves the heel of her palm over his erection, just to let him know how serious she is. "_Now_."

"Fuck," he breathes after her breast slips out from his lips. "Yeah."

Their goal isn't far but her legs feel like rubber, so he helps her along, scraping her jeans down her legs as they go. She manages to get him undone as well as she sits on the bed and feels herself shiver when she frees his swollen dick from its confines. She feels the most primal forms of satisfaction as she wraps her hand around the length of him and he groans and squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting into her fingers.

"You're gonna… you're gonna make me pop off before we even have a little fun," he roughs out. He puts his palms on her shoulders to lay her flat on the bed with her legs dangling. He kisses down her, letting his tongue trail lazily down her ribs and soft belly. It's the second she feels his teeth scrape her inner thigh that she jumps, unconsciously closing her legs to him. He looks up at her, confused and a bit chagrinned.

"I never…" she mumbles, her voice quavering, the hot coil in her belly becoming unbearably tight. "No guy has ever…." She doesn't know if she's embarrassed or elated.

He stares at her a second longer, and then a slow grin stretches over his features, his eyes becoming dark and his smile dangerous.

"Oh sweetheart," he says. "I'm gonna make you feel so good you'll be begging for it twenty-four seven."

Her stomach swoops as he disappears below her.

She jumps again as his tongue brushes her opening, but he's ready, his hands firmly grasping her thighs apart. He goes down again, licking a long slow swipe up her, and she can't even catch a breath, so good and so intense it feels. He works agonizingly slow; she closes her eyes and just lets herself _feel_, putting a death grip on the comforter as he laps up her slick, his tongue going soft one moment and then rigid the next, making noises come out of her she never knew she could make.

"So good," he's murmuring, moaning. "Tastes so fucking good."

He builds her up and then backs off, repeating the cycle of pressure and the barest of lightness until she's pleading, taking her hand to the crown of his head and holding him there, urging (like she's going to die, she is _going_ to die) him to finish the job.

His tongue circles her clit and then _moves_, and then suddenly everything disappears in a blinding white as she screams.

------

They both settle together after round two, and just before she falls asleep, his arms wrapped around her as his finger glide slowly across the skin of her back, she bites back a sound of despair as she realizes he'll probably be gone the next morning before she even wakes up.

------

He stays.

------

Two weeks ago Dean had left her with a parting kiss that had left them both partially naked, again, and a promise to be back as soon as he possibly could, Scout's honor.

She knows a good thing when she sees it, knows that all the laws of nature dictate that such things come to an end, but she marks the days off on her calendar anyway. She doesn't visit the bar again.

And then she comes home from work to find him sitting on her couch, feet propped up and a beer in hand. She tries not to let the dizzying relief show too much on her face, but she knows Dean sees it anyway.

"Josie," he breathes, putting the beer on the coffee table and reaching for her. He wraps his arms around her waist and plants his face on her stomach as she stands, reminding her of a little kid. She lets him breathe her in and lays a hand in his hair.

"I almost didn't think…" she stops, ashamed, but happy to be so.

"What, that I wouldn't be back?" he says, pulling away and looking up at her with an angelic smile. "C'mon, Josie. I'm a man of my word."

"You could have at least brought in food," she sighs, over-exaggerated, and then yelps as he slaps her ass.

"Takeout wasn't exactly what I had in mind on eating tonight," he rumbles, pulling her close again, pressing his face not on her stomach this time, but instead setting his sights a bit lower. "Mm," he grunts. "God Josie, I missed you, need to taste you again."

"Dean," she squirms back. "Let me at least take a shower or something…." But suddenly she's tingling as he kisses her through her pants, eyes closed and delicate-looking, like he's found the sweetest treasure there ever was just for him to savor.

"Huh uh," he says, and then bestows another series of kisses. "It's just you I want to taste."

She opens her mouth to protest again, but the words die in her throat as he massages her with his fingers and _God_, two weeks was more than enough of a wait just to feel his tongue inside her again. Dean makes a happy noise as she shucks off her blouse and then her pants in quick succession.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and then kisses her again through her cotton panties, breathing in deep and sighing contentedly. She makes sure that he gets naked just as quick, and then he's on her like a man desperate to slake his thirst. His tongue weaves up and down, his head angled in such a way that the roughness of his almost-beard rubs against the soft skin of her inner thigh, and it burns, but pleasantly so. He brings up his fingers to work in tandem with his mouth, making her writhe and gasp as he strokes ever so lightly and then suddenly plunges in to her, so smooth and slick and so unbearably good. She tries to thrust up into it, but his other hand is on her hip bone, and he chuckles roughly, coming up to look at her with pupils blown wide. Her own wetness shines on his lips, a little trickle trailing down his chin that he licks off quick with his tongue, and Josie's absolutely sure she has never in her life been as turned on as she is right now.

She know he sees her eyes roll to the back of her head, knows the wave of complete lust washing over her makes her that much more his, and she would gladly give it all to him, give everything, but first she needed to come, and come right the hell now.

"Now," she says, writhing again, anything to feel his tongue or fingers or even cock inside of her. "_Now_, Dean, I need—_now_."

Dean makes a noise, and she can only barely figure out that he bit back on a deep groan through her haze of _want_ and _now_ and throbbing so hard it hurts.

"Tell me," his voice hardly sounding like his own anymore, flicking his thumb over her clit. "Tell me 'please'."

"Dean," she sobs, zero self-control left within her. "Dean, _please_, I need you to fuck me, please, with your tongue, _please—_"

It's another agonizingly slow climb to the highest peak she's ever hit, as Dean wraps his lips around her clit and _sucks_. She arches up as she comes, feeling herself flood into his mouth, not sure of what she's saying or screaming or thinking or pretty much anything in the physical realm except for his mouth and his tongue and his lips, easing her down, stroking her, letting her quake and shiver, holding her there until her guttural moans become blissed-out rasps of breath.

His cheeks are flushed pink when he pulls back, and he moves so slowly she's sure his dick has to be absolutely killing him. "Christ," he says, and pulls on a condom, gritting his teeth as he does. He slips inside of her and the both choke, she over-sensitive to the touch but taking it, _wanting_, and Dean as he fills her, feeling her slick, velvety heat.

"Josie, God, oh _fuck_, I can't, I can't—" So soon, but his hips thrust fast and hard, pumping in to her and then stiffening, a cry stifled as he bites down into her shoulder. It's her turn to watch his eyelashes flutter and jaw go slack, moving on him to help through the rolling waves.

"God, Josie," he whispers into her neck, and she thinks she knows exactly how he feels.

------

Turns out Dean is a man of his word. She just doesn't tell him so, instead just begs for his tongue inside her once more.


End file.
